


Star Trek Olympia: The Not so Silent War

by docwinters



Series: Star Trek Olympia [3]
Category: Star Trek
Genre: E(a
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-06 19:13:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4233468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/docwinters/pseuds/docwinters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All stories need a beginning, and for the USS Olympia and Captain Talloc Hagen, that story starts in the closing stages of the Dominion War. Captain Hagen has to bring together a grieving crew to participate in one of the most dangerous battles of the War, the final assault on Cardassia</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Captain, we have cleared the perimeter of Starbase 629 and are coming up on Repair Station 23,” reported the young pilot to the shuttles only other occupant.   
The officer sitting in the co-pilots seat continued reading the padd in his hands before realising that the pilot was speaking to him. Looking up, the officer nodded, “Oh of course. Carry on,” he remarked before pulling down the front of his black service jacket as it had ridden up since the small craft dropped out of warp.  
The shuttles passenger felt up to touch the four gold pips on his red skivvy, two things he still was getting used to. After three decades in Starfleet, he was surprised that several grams of gold could weigh so much. _‘Captain. The promotion only came through two weeks ago. It’s still going to take some getting used to_.’ Talloc Hagen thought as he returned the padd to its case sitting on the seat behind him. He had read ‘ _the_ _Not so Silent War_ ’ a dozen times, and knew the story verbatim, but he still enjoyed reading the first book his sister, Iliana had published. Now she was an embedded reporter with the Federation News Service, covering the war. ‘ _She’s safe, she wasn’t on Betazed when it fell.’_ He frowned as he recalled that not all of his family had been so lucky.

 

He mourned the fate of his beloved Betazed. Rejoicing slightly at the fact that it had been recently liberated following two years of Dominion Occupation; the front viewscreen of the shuttle began to show the skeletal superstructure that was Repair Station 23. Cradled under the care of articulated repair arms and Worker Bees, was the carbon-scored hull of an Akira-class starship, one of the few survivors of a costly raid against the Dominion in the Tethys system. Large sections of the ships primary hull were missing, showing the latticework of girders and compartments open to vacuum underneath. EVA suited engineers worked to repair the damage. “ _Shuttle Tico_ to Orbital Control, we are making our final approach, VIP is aboard, ETA five minutes.” The pilot reported as the shuttle passed over the saucer section. Amid the battle scars an automated sprayer repainted the ships name: USS _Olympia_.

 

“Confirmed _Tico_ , Commander Jackson is enroute and will meet Captain Hagen on the flight deck. Orbital Control, out,”   
“Captain, care for an inspection tour before we land?” the pilot asked, hands dancing over the crafts control surfaces.  
Talloc shook his head, “There will be plenty of time for that, and I don’t want to keep the crew waiting any longer than I already have. This won’t be easy for them as it is.” The pilot nodded before manoeuvring the small craft between the twin booms leading out to the cruisers catamaran-style warp nacelles. Slowing, the pilot brought the shuttle onto the _Olympia_ ’s central flight deck.

 

Talloc stood, picking up his paddcase and thanked the pilot as they shut down the shuttle’s engines and lowered the rear access ramp. The Betazoid officer squeezed himself past the supply pallets that sat in stacks waiting to be unloaded, before stopping at the lip of the ramp. Taking a breath, Talloc closed his eyes and let his mind wander. He could detect an overriding sense of exhaustion and perseverance coming off the ship like a haze, with a slight undercurrent of anger he attributed to the ships current damaged status. Opening his eyes, he stepped off the ramp and onto the deck.

 

Standing at the foot of the ramp, he took in the scene around him; a team of engineers rushed past him with anti-gravity carts to unload the shuttle while work crews overhauled two of the ships four Mustang-class Runabouts. Moving out of the way of the engineers, Talloc suddenly felt self-conscious. Standing in a freshly replicated duty uniform, standing amongst the sea of crumpled, torn and incomplete uniforms of the engineers that pieced the ship back together. Jacket sleeves where rolled to the elbow, grime and sweat was a standard skin colouring. ‘ _I feel like such a sham,’_ he thought as the doors to the entrance of the expansive shuttlebay opened, revealing a woman with long, mangled sandy-brown hair and her service tunic open, showing a bar of maroon skivvy underneath. She was leading a pair of men with mustard-coloured skivvies, a Bajoran and a Vulcan, both men towered over her, but it was clear that she was in charge. Talloc noticed that most of the anger he felt coming from the ship seemed to come from this one woman.

 

The two groups met halfway across the deck before coming to a stop. “Captain Hagen?” the woman asked, when Talloc nodded she held out her hand towards him, “I am Commander Hope Jackson, executive officer,” looking around the flight deck, she noticed the new captain’s uncomfortable posture before noticing the captains attire, “You will have to excuse the mess, sir, I don’t think any of the crew has slept since we’ve returned to port.”

Talloc nodded solemnly, he could see the grime and ash that coated the commander’s face, and noticed how it failed to hide the exhaustion. “I commend the crew for their duty, especially in this trying time, but we can’t have the crew passing out from exhaustion, especially her executive officer.”   
Hope nodded slightly in acquiescence, before holding her arms out from her sides and made a half circle, “This is the _Olympia,_ she isn’t much to look at the moment, but she’s gone to hell and back already.”  
Talloc nodded once more, “And no doubt she’ll be called upon to do it again.”  
Commander Jackson nodded, “She’ll be ready.” While she was pleasant, it was obvious that she wasn’t happy with the circumstances. Taking a step towards the Captain she turned to face the two senior officers, pointing to each in turn, “Lieutenant Commander Kala, Operations Chief. Lieutenant Xonak, Security Chief.”  
Talloc nodded in greeting to the two officers before turning to the commander, “Shall we?”  
Hope sighed before gesturing towards the interior of the ship, “After you, sir, the rest of the senior staff have assembled on the bridge.”

***

Talloc stepped out of the turbolift onto the sparsely appointed bridge. Dull gunmetal panelling covered every surface and rigid metal chairs sat at each station. The echo of his footsteps as he walked over the bare metal deck plates reminded the Captain that this ship had been built during wartime. The normal warmth that was built into ships of the fleet had been replaced by mere utility. The _Olympia_ ’s senior staff moved to the front of the bridge, leaving the Betazoid captain standing in the expanse behind the wooden handrail that housed the tactical console, as it sloped down to the raised command dais in the centre.

He stood there for several minutes, taking in the sight of the command centre around him, before Hope cleared her throat, capturing his attention. Crossing the bridge, Talloc joined her at the base of the command dais. Hope signed off on a report a junior officer handed her before looking over to the officer manning the communications console, “Open the channel to the crew,” she ordered while looking back at the captain.   
From his position, Talloc couldn’t make out the wording on the PADD, but the emotions coming from the Commander told him everything he needed to know. Hope stood at attention, the bridge crew around her did likewise.

 

“Attention to Orders. From Starfleet Headquarters; Office of the Admiralty, to Captain Talloc Hagen. As of this date you are requested and required to take command of USS _Olympia_. Signed Vice Admiral William J Ross, stardate 52861.5, authorisation given by Commander Hope C Jackson. Computer, transfer all command codes to Captain Hagen.” Hope read directly from the PADD, her inflection neutral.  
The female voice of the ships main computer replied instantly. “Command codes transferred.”

 

Hope held out the PADD to the captain. Talloc noticed that the small metallic device felt heavier than the ones he had previously used. Looking back at the commander he nodded, “I relieve you, Commander.”  
She let out a defeated breath, before gesturing towards the command chair. “I stand relieved.”

 

Talloc approached the raised command chair and placed a hand on it before standing straight, addressing the still open channel and the officers present, “I know Captain Wallace was a good officer and I have big shoes to fill, but I will endeavour to do proper honour to his memory. Keep up the excellent work, Bridge out.”  
The captain stood near the command chair as the hum of shipboard activity resumed before turning to the grouped senior officers, “I would like a rundown of the ships status in the briefing room, now if possible.”  
The five grouped officers nodded before as a unit they moved to the rear of the bridge, Talloc lingered slightly before joining them.  

The senior staff were already seated by the time Talloc entered the briefing room, pausing for a moment to compose himself, he crossed the expanse between the door and the chair at the head of the long metal briefing table and sat down. He noticed how hard and uncomfortable this chair was. Looking over the collection of officers, the three men and two women, how they all wore the same exhausted and crumpled expressions. He acknowledged them each in turn before taking a breath, “So, what is our status?”   
The human officer seated next to Lieutenant Xonak, and like the Vulcan, he wore a mustard skivvy under his unclasped service tunic, spoke up, “Nathan DeSora, Chief Engineer. There isn’t a lot to tell you, sir. Thanks to supply issues and the station’s repair backlog, our own repairs are going slowly, but they are progressing. We are currently on station power as the warp core is out of calibration and required repairs. Unfortunately that also means we aren’t going anywhere for at least a week until I can get on top of it.”  
Talloc nodded, “I noticed the Repair Yard has its hands full, but I would like you to focus on getting that warpdrive back online. We don’t know when the Fleet will want us back in the fight.”  
Nathan nodded, “Understood, sir, I’ll get on that right away.”  
Talloc looked over the other members of the command staff before continuing, “How has the crew been fairing since the battle?”

The woman seated next to Hope, wearing medical teal leant forward, “Doctor Sarratt, Captain,” she moved her wavy, copper fringe out of her eyes. “Aside from Captain Wallace, we lost eighteen other members of the crew, with another thirty injured. All of whom are now recuperating in their quarters.”   
Lieutenant Kala looked up from the PADD in his hands, as if answering the captain’s next question. “At the moment, Captain, there is no word from the Fleet Resource Centre of when we are to be assigned new officers.”  
The captain frowned, “They will come, but with the momentum the fleet is having I’m not sure when that will be.”   
Hope shook her head but said nothing, the movement caught Talloc’s attention, “Problem, Commander?”  
The commander sat upright, startled by the captain’s comment, “Nothing, sir.”  
Talloc raised an eyebrow slightly before looking to the other members of the senior staff, “I know this change at the top will cause some getting used to, but I hope it can be as painless as possible.” He pushed back his chair, “I’ll let you get back to work, dismissed. Commander, you have the watch, I will be in my quarters if I’m needed.”

  * “Understood, sir,” Hope replied as the senior staff stepped away from the table, returning to their stations as Talloc headed away from the bridge.




	2. Chapter 2

Talloc stood in front of the closed doors of the space allocated as the Captain’s Quarters. Taking a breath, Talloc activated the door controls and stepped inside. The expansive space was quiet and empty. Work lights from the repair cradle outside the large window panels illuminated the room, casting harsh shadows on the standard issue furniture, giving the room a foreboding appearance. The Betazoid swallowed hard as he looked around the main living area, noticing his standard issue footlocker sitting on the desk.   
“Computer lights full, decrease external illumination by 80%,” he commanded before unclasping the front of his service jacket. As the windows polarised, and the light returned to a more comfortable level, the captain approached his footlocker and opened it.

As he sifted through the meagre trappings of a career Starfleet officer, and decided what went were, the door-chime sounded. Placing a case containing isolinear data-chips next to the footlocker before turning towards the door, the mental exhaustion he felt on the opposite side was almost draining, “Enter,” he stated before turning back to the footlocker, removing other trinkets.

A tall statuesque woman with long black hair held back in a simple ponytail entered the captain’s quarters. Like the rest of the crew, her uniform was grime encrusted, but Talloc could easily see the teal skivvy peeking over the top of her dishevelled jumpsuit.  
“Captain, I’m Doctor Cassidy Taylor, ships counsellor. I was in the neighbourhood and I wanted to introduce myself,” she remarked, extending her hand to him. While she smiled pleasantly, it was clear by the sunken state her eyes appeared that sleep was not a recent occurrence.

Talloc nodded before crossing his quarters to shake her hand, “Counsellor, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. No doubt you are doing an excellent job here,” he remarked before turning towards the seating area sitting under the large windows. “Please take a seat, can I get you anything?”  
Cassidy nodded before crossing the living area and taking a seat, “Takarian tea, please.”

Approaching the wall mounted replicator Talloc repeated the counsellor’s beverage request before requesting a cup of coffee for himself. As the two beverages materialised on the platform, he looked back at the woman who appeared barely able to stay awake, noticing the three gold pips on her collar, “I have not encountered a lot of counsellors in the fleet holding a Commanders billet,” he remarked before handing her the beverage.

Cassidy held the glass container in both hands, staring intently at its contents. It took her a moment to register the question. “That is because not many members of the Counselling Corps are tenured psychiatry professors at the Takeris Institute.”

Talloc raised an eyebrow as Cassidy took a long sip of her tea before sitting next to her, “How did Starfleet coax you away from that position?”   
The counsellor smiled weakly, as the tea started to take effect. “I answered the call. When Starfleet came to the institute inquiring about utilising our students in managing the psychological cost of the war, I realised that I would serve a greater role if I was at the front of the issue, not at the back.”

Nodding, Talloc took a sip of his own beverage, “That is a noble sentiment, Commander, you honour us by being here,” he replied as Cassidy waved off his compliment with her glass. The two sat in silence for a moment before he asked. “How is the crew?”   
“Tired,” she laughed hollowly, before taking another sip. “But then, who isn’t these days,” she looked over to Talloc, “The crew will be ready when the ship is called up, but at the moment the death of Captain Wallace has taken the wind out of the crew’s sails.”  
Nodding, Talloc took a sip of coffee before looking out of the window behind him as a Worker Bee moved passed carrying a piece of hull plating, “I can understand that, for what I’ve read, he was quite popular.” He took another sip, “Counsellor, what can you tell me about the executive officer.”

Sitting back on the sofa, Cassidy enjoyed the aroma of the beverage, “Speaking frankly, Captain. Commander Jackson is a good officer, she comes well recommended. She can be a little cold, but when it comes to the pinch, she knows what to do to get the job done.”  
Talloc smiled, “That is the impression I got from her, she also doesn’t seem to like sitting around,” he remarked before downing the remains of his drink. Cassidy laughed in agreement.

“Commander Taylor, please report to sickbay,” emanated from Cassidy’s combadge.

Rolling her eyes, Cassidy stood before tapping the silver delta on her jumpsuit, “I’m on my way, Taylor out.” She turned back to Talloc, “Thank you for the tea, Captain, but duty calls,” she remarked before turning to leave.   
Talloc stood, and collected the counsellor’s glass and returned it to the replicator, “Keep up the good work Counsellor, this crew needs you more than it needs me right now.”  
Cassidy shook her head as she crossed the living area to the door, “The crew will warm to you, captain; just give them time.” Standing in the corridor she turned back to look at Talloc, “If you need to, I keep regular hours in my office, but I should be able to squeeze you in.”  
“I will keep that in mind, Counsellor, and thank you,” Talloc remarked.   
“I wouldn’t thank me yet, you haven’t seen my bill,” she replied while laughing as the doors closed.

***

Hope sat apathetically in the command chair as technicians from the nearby Starbase 629 continued their repairs on the ship, inwardly she was fuming. While technically the ship did not need to have a watch while undergoing repairs, the appointment of a new commanding officer left her rattled, and of late the only place she could centre herself was on the bridge.

“A new captain, can you believe it,” she muttered under her breath. Around her engineers kept out of her way, repairing components and damage from the ships last encounter with the Dominion.

One of the few _Olympia_ officers on the bridge was Xonak at tactical. The tall, tanned Vulcan was reviewing tactical scenarios from the Tethys System raid, formulating new strategies the Akira-Class cruiser could implement against the Dominion.   
Hope looked behind her at the rail supporting the tactical consoles, “Xonak. What do you know of our new captain?”

The Vulcan looked up from his console, his normal stoicism appearing unaffected by the ships current state. “Captain Hagen’s service record is a matter of public record, Commander. Prior to his appointment to Starfleet Tactical Operations he served as the Chief of Security aboard the USS _Charleston_ under Captain Norfolk where he was noted to have an ‘exceptional tactical mind’. He was assigned to Tactical Operations at the beginning of the war at Captain Norfolk’s recommendation, where he worked to formulate strategy and fleet movements. He joined Admiral Ross’ staff prior to the recapture of Deep Space Nine and was part of the team that planned that operation and the attack on Chin’Toka. He was promoted to captain two weeks ago on Stardate 52832.1.”

Hope laughed hollowly, “He was promoted on Halloween, this is going to end well,” she remarked sarcastically.   
Xonak raised an eyebrow, an expression Hope had long realised was the equivalent of a confused look. “Commander, I do not see the connection between a Betazoid officer receiving a commission and an archaic Earth pseudo-holiday.” He asked while waiting for the results of his scenarios.   
Holly laughed again before dismissing the comment, “Never mind, Xonak. Now how are those scenarios going?”

The Vulcan nodded, “They are progressing as expected, Commander, but it will be two days until I will have something presentable to report on.”   
A faint beeping from the communications console brought the two officers attention to the far, right hand side of the bridge and the tall Efrosian manning it. He turned towards the centre of the bridge, while removing the communication earpiece.

“Commander, there is a transmission from the 17th Fleet Flagship for the Captain,” Lieutenant Fel Ra-haresilo, reported, “Shall I patch it through to the Captain?”   
Hope raised a hand slightly to pause the communications officer, before tapping the intercom panel in the command chair, “Bridge to Captain Hagen, you have the 17th Fleet Flagship on comms, shall we patch it down to you?”  
There was a brief pause before Talloc answered, “Yes, Commander, I’ll take it down here.” Hope nodded towards Fel Ra-haresilo.   
“Connecting you now, Captain,” Fel Ra-haresilo reported before Talloc closed the channel.

***

Talloc activated the desktop monitor as he sat at the bare metal desk. Unlike the built-in terminals he used at Tactical Operations, this was an older desktop model. The display screen showed the Federation seal before changing to show an older officer wearing the two pip and box insignia of a Starfleet Rear Admiral.  
“Admiral Mayhew, this is a surprise, what can I do for you?” Talloc asked noticing the timestamp on the Admiral’s end, and noticed that it was in the middle of the night.

Rear Admiral Chester Mayhew nodded curtly, “Captain Hagen, firstly, congratulations on the promotion, but more importantly, now that you have assumed command it is time you were brought up to speed. The _Olympia_ participated in the Tethys raid under the banner of the 194th Tactical Wing. As of this morning, the remains of the 194th have been absorbed into the 17th Fleet.” Admiral Mayhew folded his hands on the desk in front of him, Talloc sat upright in the stiff metal chair. “Understood sir.”

Admiral Mayhew reclined his chair before reaching for a long glass cylinder of tea and poured some of its contents into a ceramic cup bearing the signage of the USS _Lockhart_. “Because of this, the _Olympia_ is to make preparations to depart Starbase 629. You have four days and then you are to rendezvous with the 17th Fleet at Deep Space Nine.”

Talloc didn’t need to make use of his telepathic abilities, the Admiral’s expression told him all he needed to know, noticing the unsecured status of the transmission; Talloc raised his chin slightly. “So, its happening isn’t it.” Mayhew nodded, “Understood Admiral, the _Olympia_ will be ready.”  
The admiral took a sip, “Make sure it is, Mayhew out.”

Only as the screen returned to the seal of the Federation, did Talloc finally relax. He pressed his combadge, “Hagen to the Senior Staff, there will be a briefing at 0830, out.” Leaning forward, he rested his head in his hands, taking a deep breath. ‘ _They’re going after Cardassia.’_


	3. Chapter 3

Nathan DeSora stood leaning over the large ‘billiard table’ style master systems display in Engineering, observing the power flow from the repair station that ran through theship as his work crews continued their repairs. Behind him was the ships horizontal warp core, the normally pulsing heart of _Olympia_ , was currently sitting dark and silent. To the veteran engineer, a ship never felt right unless he could feel the hum of her warp core through the deck plates, but the calibrations being conducted by hazard suit wearing engineers couldn’t be put off any longer. As the readouts scrolled past his vision, the chief engineer pondered what the new captain would have to call a briefing first thing in the morning, especially as they had had a debriefing on his arrival.

Shaking his head he studied the external cameras tracking the EV-suited repair teams as they worked out on the hull. He pressed the intercom panel on the display table. “Suvok, how are those crews doing outside?”   
“Lieutenant, repairs to the wing struts are complete, at the current rate of repairs, the dorsal section will be completed in 53 hours,” reported his assistant chief, the slight echo a tell-tale trait of the EV suit helmet he was wearing. “The repairs to the ventral hull should be completed at around the same time.”

Nathan smiled, before clapping his hands, “Excellent news, Suvok, keep up the good work, Engineering out.” An engineer approached carrying the results of a systems diagnostic they had been working on. He acknowledged the engineer before skimming over the readouts while reaching for a nearby cup of coffee while inspecting the systems display as a red icon flashed on it. “Stevenson, Gobulan, I’m noticing a power drain in relay 22-Alpha on deck nine, compartment twenty-seven. I can’t figure out the cause from here as that section is supposed to be empty, so I want your team to investigate.” He ordered before taking a sip from the cup, screwing his face at the revelation that it was cold. “Damn it,” he muttered while looking of his expansive domain. “Jenkins, how is the phase calibrations going? I don’t want to have to report to the captain and tell him that we won’t be able to fight once we’ve gotten the warp core back online.”  
“The calibrations are complete, sir, and we’ve commenced replacing the phase coils on the port phaser array, but it won’t be until the warp core is back online before we can perform a power flow diagnostic.” Petty Officer Jenkins reported looking up from the diagnostic screen in the shadow of the idle warpdrive.   
“Outstanding, Jenkins, keep it up, if you need do, bring the auxiliary generators online to perform the diagnostics,” Nathan replied as the main doors to engineering opened as a repair crew exited to carry out their allotted task, before it closed, the captain stepped through.

“Captain, welcome to engineering, what warrants this visit?” Nathan remarked while crossing the bullpen to join the captain at the entrance.  
Talloc looked around the expansive room, “Just having a look around. I wanted to see how the repairs were going.”   
The engineer sighed, he had been around the fleet long enough to realise that when captain’s uttered those words, something bad was about to happen. “How long have we got in port before they want us back in the fight?”  
Talloc laughed slightly, “Three days,” Nathan shook his head, “I will be going over the particulars at the briefing tomorrow but I wanted you to know in advance so you could prioritise repairs.”   
Nathan nodded, “I appreciate the warning. I’ll have a proper itemised list of repairs by then.”   
The captain turned and stepped away from the diagnostic table the two were standing at, “In that case, lieutenant, I will leave you to it.” Nathan picked up his cold coffee cup and raised it slightly before turning back to his duties as the captain exited.

***

Leaving engineering, Talloc continued his journey through the decks of the _Olympia_ , his footsteps rattled off bare deck plates making the Betazoid feel as if he was on an ancient ocean-going warship instead of a 24th century spacecraft. Shaking his head, the captain realised that he had become accustomed to some luxury with the accruements of modern starships, the unnecessary pleasantries that made shipboard life so pleasant. ‘ _They say the first casualty in war is comfort_ ,’ he mused before remembering back to his Academy days, learning about the early space explorers surviving with a lot less than what the _Olympia_ had. “I can survive with no carpet,” he remarked under his breath as he turned a corridor to return to his quarters.

Continuing his tour, he noticed a door in the next compartment, sealed with a magnetic physical lock and amber warning lights on the door seal. Raising an eyebrow, Talloc stopped outside the sealed room and tapped the control panel next to the door, to bring up its designation. [ **Science Lab 1.** **No Module Installed. Do Not Enter.** ] Stepping back, the captain frowned before tapping his combadge, “Hagen to the Bridge.”

Hope’s voice answered, “Bridge here.”   
“Commander, I’m outside Science Lab One, and there is a notice on it saying the lab hasn’t been installed,”  
He could hear Hope breathe outwardly, “In order to get the _Olympia_ launched as quickly as possible, systems deemed not essential to the war effort were left out of construction with the decision that at the end of the war, those modules would be installed,”  
Talloc’s frown deepened, “That doesn’t sound encouraging.”  
“You’re telling me, makes it almost sound like the ships expendable. Is there anything else captain?” Hope’s flat tone had returned.

Sighing slightly, Talloc shook his head, knowing that the commander couldn’t see it, “That is all, Commander, I would like to speak to our Chief Science Officer when they are available.”  
“That may be difficult, as we don’t have one.” Talloc started to ask a question before Hope interrupted him, “You’ll notice we don’t have a science department either.”  
“Let me guess, personnel deemed not necessary to the war effort?”   
“That is correct,” there was a beeping on the bridge, “Captain you have an incoming hail from the SS _Sequoia,_ I’m having it piped down to your quarters _._ ”  
Turning on a bootheel, Talloc headed for the nearest turbolift, “On my way, Hagen out.”

***

Upon entering his quarters, Talloc approached the wall mounted display, trying to recall if he knew anyone aboard the civilian transport. Activating the surface, the black screen changed to show a comfortably appointed stateroom. A slim woman wearing a grey utility jumpsuit entered the range of the room’s communication receiver. Her below-shoulder length black hair was tied in an ornate braid that Talloc immediately recognised as a style originating from his Homeworld before they turned to face the receiver.

“So I had to read about your promotion in a news piece instead of hearing it directly from my brother?” the woman remarked, her black iris’ still showed a warmth that betrayed the angered expression etched on her porcelain features.   
“Iliana, my sister, I do apologise on not telling you, it has been an eventful two weeks,” Talloc replied before taking a seat on the office chair as his sister sat on an overstuffed couch.  
Iliana’s frown deepened, “Have you learned anything new?”

Talloc’s smile disappeared as he shook his head. He could already see his sister’s eye’s well. “I wish there was something to tell you but the relief force hasn’t reached every part of the planet yet.”  

The battle that had waged on and over Betazed had been costly, not only to the Alliance fleet that had liberated it, but to the normally pacifistic population on the surface. Talloc had seen the casualty lists, both from the battle and from the barbaric experiments by the Cardassian, Crell Moset.

“Have you heard from mother?” he asked morosely, he was silently dreading the answer.  
Iliana paused, before shaking her head, Talloc hardened his expression, telling his sister all she needed to know. Lowering her head slightly, “I was hoping you had. I haven’t heard from her since before the fall.”  
“You do know what that means, right,” Talloc commented before standing to approach the replicator, he needed some calming tea if he was going to keep talking to his sister.

His sister took a deep breath, “That I’m now head of the household? Yes, the thought has crossed my mind. But brother, it is not a thought I wish to entertain, as I am convinced our mother is still alive. Unless you have something to tell me.”    
Shaking his head Talloc took a sip of the tea that materialised in front of him in the alcove. “No, I have nothing new, they are still tabulating casualty numbers, and as I said there are still parts of the planet they haven’t reached yet.”

Iliana curled her long, tapered legs under herself on the couch, “Just tell me she’s alive.”  
Talloc returned to his chair, “All I know right now, my dear sister is that there is no confirmation that she’s not, and besides do you think the Dominion could take down our mother.”   
She laughed hollowly, “You have a point there, and that is why I am I no hurry in taking her place.”  
Talloc nodded, “I am glad to hear that, Iliana.” He paused, “So why are you on the _Sequoia_?”  
“Following the war,” Iliana’s reply was instant. “Admiral Ross removed all press from his command ship about four days ago, citing operational reasons, and the last time he did that was before Operation Return, so all I know is something big is about to happen, but I don’t suppose you know anything about that.” The grin she bore spoke volumes, this was a regular game the two had played since Talloc had been assigned to the Tactical Operations Department.   
Talloc raised a hand, “And if I did, my dear sister, I wouldn’t be able to tell you, but I’m not part of the planning process anymore.”

Iliana shrugged, “To bad, I was hoping to get this story finished before we got to Deep Space Nine.” A notification sounded on the _Sequoia,_ “Well brother, I must cut this short.”  
Talloc raised an eyebrow, as Iliana stood to deactivate the monitor. “When are you reaching the station?”  
“Five days, why?” Iliana asked, pausing her movement.   
“The _Olympia_ will be there in four,” he replied, choosing his words carefully.   
“You do know something, don’t you?” Iliana took a step back, reaching for a PADD.   
“Goodbye sister,” Talloc smiled as she relaxed her stance, “We’ll talk soon.”  
“Fine. Oh and congratulations on the promotion, it would have been nice to hear about it from you and not from some news wire.”   
“I will keep that in mind. Take care Iliana,” Talloc remarked before standing.   
“Just stay safe, okay,” Talloc nodded, “I’ll talk to you soon.”

Talloc placed a hand on the display as the image of his sister disappeared and hoped that wasn’t the last time he saw her.


	4. Chapter 4

Talloc stood next to the inactive Master Systems Display as his senior staff sat at the metal briefing table. He could tell from their body language that they had some idea about what was going on. The captain had always known that there was no such thing as a secret on a starship. His job now was to prevent the wrong information getting out.

Clearing his throat, Talloc activated the display screen showing the local star chart around Deep Space Nine. “We have received our new orders,” he tapped the display, “We are to meet up with the 17th Fleet at Deep Space Nine in four days, which means we need to be ready to depart the Repair Station in three.”  
Hope frowned, “That doesn’t give us a lot of time to get this ship ready for the fight.”  
The captain turned to face his executive officer, “No, it doesn’t but I have every confidence in the abilities of Lieutenant DeSora’s repair teams.” He looked at Nathan, “Speaking of which, how are the repairs going.”  
The chief engineer smiled slightly, though it didn’t hide the exhaustion on his face, “The repairs to our hull will be completed the day after tomorrow and the calibrations to the warp core will be completed soon after. As soon as that is completed we will be able to restart the core and get moving again. That will also coincide with the completion of all the repairs requiring the Station. The remaining repairs can be completed enroute or once we reach Deep Space Nine.”

Talloc nodded, “Xonak, I want you to start liaising with the CIC on the _Lockhart_ , I want to know where we fit into their battle plan and who to answer to before we reach Deep Space Nine,” Talloc commented before bringing up the order of battle of the 17th Fleet.   
The Vulcan nodded, “Understood, Captain, I will also begin running tactical drills.”  
“Very good,” the Betazoid replied before looking over to Doctor Sarratt, “Doctor, how are our medical supplies?”  
Anabelle Sarratt looked down at her own PADD, “The Starbase has been able to restock our medical supplies, but I must report we are still without an EMH, as there is a Fleet-wide shortage of holo-modules.”  
Talloc frowned, “Do what you can, hopefully when we re-join the fleet, we might get lucky and find a backup module at Deep Space Nine.”

The doctor shrugged slightly, “While I do not like the idea of being replaced by a lightbulb, having one may be beneficial, especially if we are destined to cross the border into Cardassian Space, but they are a highly sort after commodity.”  
Nodding, Talloc turned to the senior staff, noticing that Commander Jackson’s frown hadn’t moved since the start of the briefing. “I understand that this is a trying time, but we need to keep pulling together, and if what I suspect is happening, the war may soon come to a close,” Talloc remarked before deactivating the display, “I’ll let you get back to work, dismissed.”

***

Anabelle let the doors to sickbay close behind her. The one thing as a ships physician she hated above all others, was preparing sickbay for battle. Taking a breath, the doctor scanned her domain, checking to see if there was anyone waiting for her. Aside from the alpha shift medical team, the only occupants were six unopened supply crates that sat on the biobeds of the general care suite. “Oh good, the new shipments arrived,” she commented dryly before approaching her office situated between the surgical and general care suites. Picking up the teal lab coat from her desk, she checked her terminal for messages before returning to the main section of sickbay.  
Approaching the crate closest to her, she removed the sheet of transparent film containing the supply manifest from its lid. Skimming over the contents on the manifest, she pressed her thumb against the crates reader, causing the sealed supply crate to hiss and unlock. Sifting through the contents, she started going through its contents.

“I thought I heard the door open,” hissed a reptilian voice, emerging from the critical care unit located between the two larger suites.   
Anabelle turned towards the voice while checking the serial numbers on a case of auto-sutures. “I wondered where you were, Ech‘telan. Why haven’t these supplies been inventoried yet?”  
The predatory-looking Tridillian before her, bowed in a posture of contrition. The posture bared similarities to a theatrical bow, with the reptilian female holding out her long, muscular forearms out to her sides, the three jagged talons on each hand pointed downward.

“My apologies, Doctor, I had been recording progress notes on our recently discharged patients, I had not planned for that task to take as long as it did,” she replied, her tone remaining constant despite her position.

Anabelle had come to understand that the Tridillian language was very reliant on body language instead of inflection, a concept that dated back to their primitive ancestors. She had begun to be very aware of how she carried herself when dealing with her head nurse, making sure that the posture she displayed reflected what she was saying.   
The doctor relaxed her stance, before turning to face the officer, “No need to apologise Ech’telan,” she looked around at the collection of nurses, medical officers and orderlies that were loitering around the suite. “There are enough people in this sickbay with nothing else to do that could have done it.” she interlocked her fingers together in front of her in the Tridillian posture of gratitude, “Thanks for finishing those reports. Now that we have orders I fear there will be more on the way.” Looking back to the manifest, she sighed. “Let’s get this inventoried while we still have the time.”  
“Of course, Doctor,” Ech’telan replied before the rest of the shift approached another crate. “How long do we have before we must again answer the call to battle?” she asked while shifting through the crates contents.  
Anabelle picked up a replacement surgical field generator from the base of the crate, “Three days, so I want to start running triage drills this afternoon.”

***

While the _Olympia_ was bereft of most of the normal comforts of starship life, on deck five, nestled between empty compartments, cargo bays and crew quarters, was the ships lounge.   
Lieutenant Navara traced a slender green finger around the rim of the glass in front of her. With the ship in port, there was little for the Orion helm officer to do aside from partake in the ‘lounges’ hospitality.  
Taking another sip of the pearlescent liquid in front of her, she turned her seat towards the large floor to ceiling windows, revelling in the peace and quiet of the empty lounge. While she had no issues with having to preparing her own drink, the obvious crew shortages, had made her time on board somewhat, lonely.

Navara raised the long, fluted glass she was nursing as EVA suited repair teams and equipment-laden Worker bees floated passed the large windows, saluting the engineers as they continued repairing the ship. Smiling to herself, she finished the contents of her drink, and reached for the still open bottle of synthehol. Sloshing the liquid around, she decanted some of its contents into the glass. As she raised the glass once more, the doors to the lounge opened. Turning towards the door, the Orion immediately noticed the four pips and red skivvy of its owner.   
“Captain, welcome to the lounge,” Navara remarked before placing the glass on the countertop, “I don’t suppose I can get you a drink?”  
Talloc shook his head, “No thanks, I’m on duty,” he replied before looking over to a wall mounted chronometer, “and technically so are you.”  
She shrugged, “Not an awful lot for a pilot to do on a ship in port with an inactive warp drive.”

Talloc chuckled slightly, “I suppose that is true. But I expect to find my senior officers at their posts, and not at the bottom of a bottle.”  
Navara nodded, before placing the bottle back on the counter and slid off her barstool. “Understood, sir.” Standing at attention, it became clear by her visible, green forearms that she was only wearing the service waistcoat, with a red departmental trim around the neck of the garment. The two gold pips representing her rank sat on the lip of the uniforms grey yolk, sitting above her combadge.

“Were you looking for me, sir?” she asked, interlocking her hands behind her.  
Nodding, Talloc picked up the open bottle, reading its label, “Yes, I want to conduct a visual inspection of the hull, and according to your service jacket, you’re the best pilot on-board.”  
Navara smiled, “I’m not one to brag, but in the absence of a fighter squadron, yes; I am the best pilot on board.”  
Raising an eyebrow, Talloc returned the bottle to the counter, “I want to conduct a visual inspection of the outer hull, so I’ll need a pilot.”  
Nodding, Navara smoothed her waistcoat, “I’ll meet you on the flight deck.”  
Turning, Talloc headed for the door, before stopping halfway, “This time I’ll let you finish your drink, but I’d savour it if I were you, as it will be the last one consumed while on duty, understood?”  
“Crystal, sir,” Navara replied before lacing her fingers around the stem of the glass, picking it up as the captain exited.


	5. Chapter 5

A small shuttlepod lifted off the flight deck, manoeuvring between work crews, performing repairs and upgrades on the Olympia’s flight deck and transport elevators. It did not take the craft long to cross the protective barrier of the decks forward forcefield, underneath the Olympia’s main deflector.   
Navra’s hands expertly danced over the console in front of her as she brought the shuttle to a position beyond the repair cradle.   
“You control this craft like an extension of yourself, Lieutenant,” Talloc commented as he observed the alluring green helm officer manipulate the craft to perform intricate manoeuvers between work crews and repair teams.  
Navra grinned, “This is nothing, wait until you see me get my hands onto something bigger,” she winked slightly before laughing. “Piloting is no different than dancing, and if there is one thing Orion women know how to do, is dance.”  
“Lieutenant, are you always this flippant when speaking to your superiors?” Talloc asked as the small craft slowly came to a stop.  
Navra’s eyes widened, “Not intentionally, sir, a side effect of my upbringing. I do try to keep on top of it, but sometimes the green in me slips out,” she replied before turning the pod 180° to face the Olympia.   
Pausing for a moment as the forward section of the main hull filled the viewscreen, Navra rested her elbows on the bottom of the console, awestruck by the sight before her. “I always liked the new direction Starfleet has taken with their starship design. Don’t get me wrong, the classic designs have a certain aesthetic to them, but the Akira class, she breathes survivability,” the Orion commented before taking the shuttlepod on a slow inspection tour of its mothership.   
Talloc nodded absently, he had noticed the recent generation of Federation starships had appeared more angular, than their predecessors. “It is an impressive design,” he remarked as the pod passed the repainted signage, the black paint reflected the work lights as the small craft made a circuit of the bridge module.   
“Captain, do you have issue with an Orion holding a commission on your ship?” she commented abruptly as she navigated the shuttlepod between repair cranes and equipment-laden Worker Bees.   
Talloc shook his head before skimming over a PADD containing the latest progress of the ships repairs, “Not particularly, I assume you attended some form of accredited education facility, and as long as you continue to respect that uniform and the oath you took to wear it. I have no issue with you being here.” He noticed her posture tighten slightly as she continued to pilot the shuttlepod towards the rear of the Olympia.   
Navra laughed awkwardly, “Class of 2364, graduated with qualifications in both support craft and starships up to cruiser in designation. I know my people have not had the best of reputations with the Fleet, but I will not let you down.” She smiled before bringing the shuttlepod to a stop between the Olympia’s dark warp nacelles.   
Looking up, Talloc nodded slightly, as he watched engineering crews replace warp coils in the port nacelle. “I will hold you to that, Lieutenant,” he replied before Navra brought the ship on a course underneath the Olympia’s saucer.   
She smiled as the craft started its circuit of the saucers underside, Talloc made notes on the PADD of damaged compartments, and the progress being made to repair them. “Captain was there another reason why you requested me to pilot this inspection tour? I mean I’m not the only one aboard.”  
Placing the PADD on the console in front of him, Talloc turned his seat towards her, “There was another reason, when I read your service jacket last night while making preparations for our departure. You are a highly qualified pilot for an officer as young as you are. I wanted to see for myself just how qualified you were before I entrusted the Olympia to your rather talented hands.”   
Navra tilted her head slightly before completing the circuit of the saucer and setting a course back towards the flight deck. “Have I lived up to my record?” she asked as a tiny pin-prick of light appeared on the perimeter to Starbase 629, manifesting into a long, flat bodied Federation starship.   
“More than enough Lieutenant, now we will see just how you can make the Olympia dance.” Talloc replied before a notification on the consoles display screen started flashing.   
“Olympia to Shuttlepod Rhapso. Captain, the Starfighter Carrier, USS Icarus has dropped out of warp and its commanding officer wishes to speak with you,” reported the officer of the watch.   
Talloc pressed the flashing icon, “Understood Olympia, we are making our landing approach now, requesting landing clearance.”  
“Landing clearance granted, we’ll pass the information onto the Icarus’s commander for you, Olympia out.”  
***  
Tobias Renshaw sat contemplatively atop his command chair as the image on the viewscreen in front of him changed from Starbase 629’s Defence Perimeter to a repair cradle encompassing an Akira-Class starship. He looked over to his executive officer, seated to his left on a dais ringed with consoles. “Ex, is the 953rd prepped for departure?” he asked, wishing that he had changed out of his white, Starfighter Corps skivvy into the more appropriate command red one.   
His Benzite executive officer looked over from his console and nodded as a mist of vapour was released from his chest-mounted breathing apparatus. “Yes, Commander, the flight crew is running final checks on the supply craft that will follow the 953rd Squadron once it’s transferred.”   
From the ringed dais to the captain’s right, his chief tactical officer looked over from her console, “CAG, I have the Captain of the Olympia for you,” the Bajoran officer reported turning her chair towards the central command dais.   
Tobias chuckled slightly, “Oh good, he’s back from his little joyride, Lieutenant Bemar, open a channel to the Olympia.”   
The viewscreen changed from the exterior of the Olympia to its bridge. The camera focused on her captain.   
“Captain Hagen, I’m Tobias Renshaw, the Icarus’s CAG. I have orders from Starfighter Command to transfer the 953rd Squadron to the Olympia,” Tobias remarked before standing.   
Talloc looked up and behind him to his Chief Tactical Officer, standing at the tactical rail, “Have you received the assignment orders?”  
Xonak nodded before manipulating the controls in front of him, “The assignment notice came through this morning with the latest tactical packet from the USS Lockhart.”  
The captain nodded before turning to the forward pair of consoles, “Commander Kala, is our Flight Deck clear?”  
The Bajoran manning the Operations console stiffened before nodding, “All repairs to the Flight Deck are complete.”  
Looking up to the viewscreen, Talloc smiled, “The Olympia is ready for the transfer.”  
Tobias looked over to his Flight Deck commander, seated in the same dais as his tactical officer. “Stevenson, give the 953rd the green light to depart,” he ordered before looking back at the viewscreen, “So, Captain, how long are you locked up for?”  
Talloc noted the Icarus’ commanding officers casual, relaxed demeanour, and smiled, “Two days. Commander, your senior staff are more than welcome to beam to the Olympia as our guest.”  
Tobias laughed, “If only we had the time, Captain, but we are destined for the front. So I’ll have to raincheck for a visit.”  
The flight deck of the Icarus was a hive of activity, as the twelve Peregrine Class Fighters belonging to the 953rd Squadron sat staggered, ready for launch. Major Mitzas Tol looked down at the PADD attached to the left thigh of her flight suit as it fed her updated telemetry from the Icarus’s Tactical Information Centre. Shaking her head, she activated its controls and pinged the TIC of the Olympia, the new home of the 953rd. Once the connection was secure, the Ktarian made eye contact with the Flight Deck Controller, located in their pressurised alcove near the Icarus’ massive open flight bay doors. The officer, wearing a high visibility vest, pressed a finger against his earpiece as he received new instructions from the bridge before making a hand gesture to one of the Flight Deck Controllers.   
Red information readouts on the console in front of Mitzas turned green as the in-deck lighting changed from white to red, before the communications device in her sealed flight suit activated. “953, clear to launch, Olympia FlightOPs has cleared for landing. It’s been a pleasure having you aboard.” Reported the Flight Deck Controller.  
Mitzas smiled before using the retina tracking in her helmet to key open her microphone, “953 Actual to Icarus Control, pleasures been ours. Orders received and understood.” Switching to the operational channel, she continued. “953 Actual to 953 Flight, we have green launch status, see you all over on the Olympia.”  
Green acknowledgement lights appeared on her helmets heads up display as she throttled up her small fighters main reactor and retracted the landing gear.  
Pressing down on the control surfaces, Mitzas led the 953rd past the protective forcefield and into space. Activating her microphone, she raised the Olympia’s TIC. “FS-953 to Olympia TIC, transferring C-and-C over to you guys, requesting landing clearance,” she requested as the squadron broke into its individual Flights and headed for the rear flight deck door. Behind them was the squadron’s attendant Mustang Class Tender the Aegis, behind it was a Type 9 cargo shuttle, containing the squadron’s personal effects, a task its crew filled when it wasn’t performing search-and-rescue duties for the squadron.  
“Confirmed FS-953, Command transferred to Olympia-TIC, clearance to the flight deck has been granted. TIC, out.”   
Tilting her head slightly, Mitzas deactivated her microphone, before manipulating the controls to bring her craft, leading the rest of the squadron to their new home.


End file.
